


Into Every Generation...

by MiraMira



Category: Allstate Insurance "Mayhem" Commercials, State Farm Insurance "Back in the Office" Commercial
Genre: Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Legacy Heroes, Rivalry, Training, Workplace, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28308819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: Always two there are: a Jake, and his trainee.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Into Every Generation...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shnuffeluv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, shnuffeluv! I'm sorry I was only able to allude to the transformation sequence, but I hope this bit of silliness still gives you a smile.

Jake has to admit, he’s a little discomfited by the kid. Who isn’t a kid, not really, but Jake’s still struggling to think of him as a successor. And not just because he doesn’t feel ready to _have_ a successor yet. Sure, one or two colleagues have been asking what he plans to do upon his ascension to Executive Level, but it’s always been about the personal interactions for him. Can’t connect with customers as effectively in a suit as in a sweater.

Still, it’s not impossible. After all, where would their noble order be, if Jake the First hadn’t put his reputation on the line to see Marjorie Swenson’s claim approved in full? Jake doesn’t flatter himself he’ll ever live up to _those_ legendary standards, but he’s already cut through his fair share of red tape. If not being out in the field every day changes his commitment to good neighborship, he might as well snap his badge in two right now.

No, if he’s being honest with himself about the thing that really raises his hackles, it’s that the kid’s just too...polished. Handsome, even. When a spouse gets caught on the phone discussing deductibles at 3 am, it’s supposed to end in laughter once the confusion gets sorted out, not _further_ suspicions of an affair.

There’s nothing in the Manual that says all Jakes must be doughy schlubs, though. (He’s checked. Twice.) And the kid’s got the name. He pulled Excontractibur, the sacred pen, from its inkwell without breaking a sweat, and used it to summon the Khakis of Customer Service on his first try. He knows his policy options backwards and forwards. Most importantly, he’s got the heart. All that remains is for Jake to bring him that last little step of the way toward becoming a full-fledged Representative.

The trouble is, Jake doesn’t know what that last step is supposed to _be_. When it comes to training, the Manual abandons its usual fine print covering every possible contingency for vague, inspirational statements. He wishes his predecessor had provided a few final words of wisdom before sailing off into the West on a newly-purchased houseboat (with full coverage, of course), but young and overconfident as he’d been then, would he have listened?

“...Jake? Jake?”

Hell, he isn’t listening _now_. Filing away his thoughts for later, he focuses his attention back on his successor. The kid doesn’t even look frustrated. Somehow, this irritates Jake more, though he does his best to stifle it. “Sorry. Run that last part by me again?”

“It’s the Lopez account. We’re losing her.”

“What? How?” Patricia Lopez is a second-generation policyholder. Her father was one of Jake’s first customers. He’s kept notes on her and her progress since she was born: even drove her to get her learners’ permit when her parents couldn’t find time between shifts. “Is she behind on payments? We can always talk her through the automatic billing options…”

The kid shakes his head sadly. “I think...I think she’s been talking to someone else. Or someone else has been talking to her.”

A chill runs down Jake’s spine. Of course. _This_ is the part they haven’t covered yet. It’s not enough for a Representative to defend customers against fire, flood, and theft. Sometimes, they need to be saved from the siren call of competitors.

He takes a deep breath, willing his voice to remain calm. “Any idea who?” Maybe they’ll get lucky. Maybe it’ll be Progressive. His first trial came to a swift and peaceful end when Flo’s own price comparison went against her. But even as he prays it, something tells him fate won’t be so kind twice.

“She said…” The kid swallows. “She said she was in good hands.”

 ** _Shit._** “Did...did she sound like herself?”

“I think so? It was kind of hard to hear. Lots of commotion going on in the background.”

Well. That’s something, at least. Jake’s never confronted The Spokesman directly, and he hopes to Act of God he never does. Lesser agents have committed unspeakable acts of betrayal under the will-eroding power of that smooth bass voice: while he doesn’t fear his ability to endure, he’s painfully aware that alone would constitute a victory. But the foe it seems they face is only marginally less persuasive, and every bit as dangerous in his own way.

He looks his successor in the eye, and provides the confirmation he can tell the kid is already dreading: “When you went through orientation, what did they teach you about Mayhem?”

~

Jake’s never struggled so hard to maintain appropriate speed as on the drive to Patricia’s apartment, including the time he ended up having to deliver Nancy Mason’s baby in the hospital parking lot. It’s not that he’s eager for the confrontation; truth be told, he’s only got the barest outline of a plan. But as a certain other foe has taught him, fifteen minutes can be all it takes to lose a customer forever. They’re just going to have to improvise.

The kid - it doesn’t feel right to be calling him that, as they head into battle, but there isn’t a less cumbersome or confusing option - hasn’t said anything since they got in the car. Jake isn’t sure how he feels about that. Not that he wants the silence filled by idle chatter, but it would be helpful to know what he’s thinking. Is he nervous? Excited?

Before he can ask, they pull up to Patricia’s house. He’s not surprised to see the driveway already occupied by a battered jalopy whose bumper is pressed dangerously close up against the fender of Patricia’s immaculate two-seater, but his stomach sinks nonetheless.

Patricia opens the door before either of them can knock, eyes darting nervously between them. “Jake! And...Jake, right?” Her voice, though shaky, is indeed her own. “I’m so sorry, but right now isn’t a good time.”

“It’s fine, Patsy.” A figure in rumpled black emerges from the shadows, and slings an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll handle this.”

“Patricia--” Jake calls out, but she has already retreated back into the house.

Mayhem looks them over. Unlike Patricia, his gaze is utterly unafraid - and unimpressed. “I’d be flattered they sent two of you to stop me, if I thought you added up to a whole agent.” He focuses on Jake. “Especially you. Kid not shaping up, so they can finally put you out to pasture?”

 _Don’t call him ‘kid,’_ Jake wants to say, despite the hypocrisy. But even without the full force of Mayhem’s power behind them, he can feel the words starting to take effect. “Don’t listen,” he mutters, as much for his own benefit as his companion’s, and tries to ignore the tinge of old-man quaver. “What he says is only as real as you let it be.”

“As real as the _customer_ lets it be,” Mayhem corrects smoothly. “And I assure you, Patsy is _quite_ convinced Allstate and I can do a better job of keeping her safe. So if you’ll let us get back to the signing--”

“No.”

Both Mayhem and Jake stare at the kid. Mayhem raises an eyebrow almost high enough to touch the bandage on his forehead. “No?”

“I’m not here to talk to you,” the kid...the young man insists. “I’m here to be a good neighbor to Patricia - or Patsy, if that’s what she prefers these days. _You_ don’t matter.”

Mayhem staggers as though blown aside by a strong gale. He holds out an arm to brace himself, and gapes. It takes Jake a second longer to realize that the doorframe is showing through his suddenly translucent sleeve. “That’s...you’re not...you can’t…”

“I’m Jake from State Farm,” the kid - **Jake** \- declares. “There’s nothing I can’t or won’t do for my customers.” He turns to his predecessor. “Shall we?”

Jake smiles. Maybe he should be feeling envious, or regretful, or every bit as washed-up as Mayhem implied he was earlier, but all he can muster is pride. “I think you’ve got this, Representative.”

He and Mayhem watch the newest holder of the Jake legacy head inside. After a moment, Mayhem lets out a long, windy sigh. “This one’s going to be trouble.” He grins, body going solid again in the process like a reverse Cheshire Cat. “Should be fun.” 

With a final salute in Jake’s direction, he ambles back to his car.

Jake decides it’s time for him to be heading back, too. At the very least, he needs to get his vehicle out of the way before Mayhem has a chance to total it. But with Patsy’s customer status secure once more, his successor should be able to snap himself back to headquarters when they’re done. And maybe by then, Jake will have figured out how to turn his khakis into pinstripes.

It’s time. Executive Level, here he comes.


End file.
